


Skinned Knees and Pencil Stained Hands

by serenalunera



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Boys In Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jock!Rick, M/M, Not So Unrequited Crush, Rickyl Writers' Group, Underage Kissing, artist!daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6261478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenalunera/pseuds/serenalunera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick finds a forgotten sketchbook by the bleachers. What he finds inside of it, however, proves difficult to forget. Not that he wants to, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skinned Knees and Pencil Stained Hands

**Author's Note:**

> another prompt fill for tumblr, this time a high school popular kid/nerd AU  
> mostly cute to make up for all the angst i've been posting lately ♥

“Shane, wait up. Someone left their stuff here.” Rick calls to his friend as he comes to a stop near the bleachers of the football field, gesturing to a tattered sketchbook laying forgotten on the ground below.

“You sure they didn't just leave it here on purpose? That thing looks like it's seen better days.” Shane snorts and walks over to his friend. He arches a brow once he sees just how damaged the damn thing is, the once-white cover now worn and yellowing around the edges.

“Maybe, but I'd rather return it just in case. Could be important.” Rick shrugs, handing Shane the sketchbook before pulling his bag off his shoulder. He rummages through it, reorganizing its content to make space for the extra item while Shane takes a look at it.

“What kinda hick name is Daryl Dixon anyway?” Shane scoffs as he flips through the pages of the sketchbook, snorting at the owner's name scribbled clumsily across the first page.

“He's a sophomore. Pretty sure he's in Maggie's class.” Rick replies matter-of-factly, shrugging again to hide the small smile stretching his lips at the mention of Daryl Dixon. Truth be told, Rick has been trying to find an excuse to talk to the kid for weeks, ever since he saw Margaret Greene steal a shy smile from him – Rick's heart doing a back flip at the sight.

“He's pretty good for a hillbilly.” Shane whistles comically, still flipping through the pages of the sketchbook, appreciating the various pencil sketches littering the paper.

“Come on man, don't be a jackass. Hand it over.” Rick frowns, holding his hand out to grab the sketchbook out of Shane's hands, only for his best friend to avoid his attempt and look through it some more, gasping audibly after a couple more pages.

“Damn. Looks like someone's got a crush on you.” Shane finally says a few pages later, eyebrows arched in disbelief. He looks up to chance a glance at Rick, who looks utterly taken aback by his words. Shane smirks, handing him the sketchbook to show him _exactly_ what he means.

Pages upon pages of pencil sketches and ink drawings unfold before his eyes, all of them depicting the same person.

_Rick._

There's Rick playing football. Rick walking to class with Shane. Rick laughing over lunch with Tara and Rosita. Rick carrying Michonne's gym bag after losing a bet last month. Rick running through the football field with Glenn in tow. Rick arm wrestling with Tyreese in the cafeteria. Rick wrapping his jacket over Lori's shoulders last fall. Rick sitting alone on the bleachers, back when he had hurt his ankle at practice. Rick leaning against a wall, smiling down at his phone.

Then there are a bunch more sketches, still of Rick, but there is a more personal quality to them somehow. Some of them are of his face, others focus on his eyes, his lips, his hands... He sees himself depicted in every angle possible, and if each drawing reeks of longing more than the last, Rick doesn't mention it. He stares instead, flipping through the pages and seeing himself staring right back, the whole thing so surreal Rick wonders if he's not dreaming right now.

“You still with me, brother?” Shane asks, dipping his head to try and meet his friend's gaze, the smallest of smirks pulling the corners of his lips upwards. He looks positively smug, like he just found out about this huge secret and he's dying to tell everyone – which is probably the case, if Rick knows his best friend at all.

“Yeah... Yeah. Just... Don't tell anyone, okay? These,” Rick pauses, gesturing with one hand to the sketchbook full of drawings he's holding with the other, “They don't exist. You've never seen them. Are we clear?” The teenager raises a brow, seeking confirmation in the frown settling on Shane's face.

“Fine. You suck, but fine. Why do I hang out with you again?” Shane sighs theatrically while Rick stuffs the sketchbook in his bag. He zips it shut a little more forcefully than necessary and walks away, his mind reeling with a swarm of questions and _possibilities._

\---

Rick finds Daryl Dixon by the bleachers the next morning. The kid looks a little crazed, peeking underneath each and every bench in search of _something_ – most likely the forgotten sketchbook, Rick guesses. The teenager takes a moment to study the other boy, noting the fresh cuts on his knuckles and the disaster that is his hair, a shaggy mess of too long, ash blonde locks. Rick smiles softly at the sight, imagining the way it would feel to run his fingers through them as he makes his way towards the boy.

“This what you're looking for?” Rick asks as non-threateningly as possible, holding the sketchbook up for Daryl to see. The kid whips around like he's been caught stealing, the color draining from his face once he takes in who is standing right in front of him, holding the paper equivalent of a love confession in his hands.

_Shit._

“... Yeah. What's it to you?” Daryl snaps, narrowing his eyes in such a way that the bruise around the right one suddenly appears much more glaring than before.

“Relax, I found it last night and I just thought you'd want it back.” Rick shrugs, schooling his features before extending the hand holding the sketchbook towards Daryl – slowly, like he would with a wild animal.

“Yeah. Thanks, I guess.” Daryl mumbles, grabbing the sketchbook and stuffing it in his bag, dropping his gaze as he does so. He seems a little calmer, albeit still a little tense. Uncomfortable, Rick muses.

Rick is about to reply when the bell rings, breaking the short-lived silence between them. He wets his lips and nods, throwing a quick “see you around” and a smile over his shoulder as he walks away, leaving the boy behind him. Daryl stares after him for a few seconds, confusion painted all over his face. Did he not open it? Why didn't he say anything?

Shaking his head, Daryl sighs before making his way to his first class, keeping his head bowed and his hands buried deep in his pockets the whole way. He slides into an empty seat in the back, dumps his backpack on the table and slouches over, fully intending on using it as a makeshift pillow. If he happens to sit right next to Margaret Greene, she doesn't say anything about it. She puts an energy bar next to his hand instead, already painfully aware of the fact that breakfast isn't one of Daryl Dixon's priorities, and never has been.

Daryl grumbles something that sounds like “thanks” after a moment, the sound muffled by his arms and backpack. A few more seconds pass before he straightens up and starts munching without much enthusiasm, Maggie offering him a small smile when he finally looks at her. He nods briefly and keeps on eating silently, his classmate turning her attention back to the board when the teacher enters the room.

The boy politely ignores the vast majority of what Mr. Horvath has to say, choosing to focus instead on the thunderstorm happening in his head after his encounter with Rick Grimes that morning. There is _no way_ the teenager didn't at least look through the sketchbook, just like there is _no way_ he didn't see the impressive number of drawings of _him_ , of all people. Sighing, Daryl pulls his sketchbook out of his bag and glares at it for a good minute before opening it to the first page, where a bright yellow post-it note scribbled on in dark red ink is waiting for him.

_“Sorry I looked through your sketchbook. I didn't really mean to but my best friend saw the drawings you made of me and I just had to look. I didn't want to embarrass you by telling you this in person, but they're really good and if drawing me helps at all, I think you should keep doing it._

_Oh and here's my number. Kinda been meaning to ask you out for a while, so if you're okay with it, give me a call. Or, you know, text me. Whatever you prefer._

_404-555-0161_

_Rick Grimes”_

It takes everything Daryl has in him not to flip the table over.

He doesn't even _have_ a phone.

\---

Daryl spends the better part of the day reading the note over and over again – and when he's not reading it, he's thinking about it. He also spends the day looking for Rick every chance he gets, but either he never finds him alone, or he never finds him at all. The bell rings for the last time that day, signaling the end of Daryl's history class, and the boy is out the door before the teacher can even finish writing the homework on the board. He runs smack into someone on his way out, the impact making him stumble back a few steps before he can look up and see _who_ he just ran into.

“Ain't got no phone,” is all he manages to say because there's no other than Rick Grimes standing right in front of him, the stray curls hanging off his forehead in wild rivulets complimenting the surprised look on his face.

“That's fine. Guess we'll just have to keep meeting in person, then.” The teenager has the gall to smile as he replies, tilting his head slightly to meet the boy's gaze. “Does that mean you _do_ want to go out with me?” Rick presses, a shit-eating grin covering half of his face as he watches Daryl squirm under the attention.

“Didn't say that.” Daryl mumbles as he keeps avoiding the other teenager's gaze. He's entirely too nervous, speaking before he even gets a chance to think, and it shows in the way he fiddles with the strap of his backpack and bites his lower lip to pieces, a permanent scowl on his face.

“I know. That's why I'm askin'. Wanna make sure that's what you want before I start grabbing your hand and dragging you places.” Rick is smirking now, his cockiness showing in the way he tilts his head further to meet Daryl's shy gaze.

“... Okay.” Daryl deadpans, voice low but surprisingly sure for someone who seems so uncomfortable. He shifts on his feet before lifting his head to look at Rick, storm grey meeting sky blue for the first time.

“Good. Let's go then.” The teenager smiles again, watching Daryl's composure crumble as he reaches for his hand and grasps it in his. The boy looks positively shell-shocked, and Rick uses his momentary confusion to drag him out the corridor, towards the football field.

\---

“You're in Maggie Greene's class, right?” Rick asks as he throws the football, raising his voice a little at the end from the force he puts behind the gesture. The two of them have been tossing the football back and forth in total silence for the last 10 minutes, and Rick can't take the quiet anymore.

“Yeah. She's nice.” Daryl shrugs after he's caught the ball, looking up at Rick to find out whether or not they're done playing yet. A quick nod towards the bleachers on the older boy's part confirms that they are, indeed, done for now.

Rick is the first one to settle on a bench, sitting down heavily. He gestures next to him for Daryl to follow before producing a bottle of water from his bag and taking a few sips from it, handing it to the other teenager as soon as he's done. Daryl looks torn between sitting as far as possible from Rick and getting all up close and personal, but accepts the bottle anyway. The older boy smiles and waits for him to come to terms with his internal conflict, the kid finally settling right next to Rick after a few more seconds of hesitation, a few inches of space between them.

“You don't talk much, do you?” Rick knows it's a rhetorical question, and yet he can't help himself from teasing the boy, hoping to get somewhat of a rise out of him. As cute as he is when he's nervous, Rick can't get to know Daryl unless he _lets_ him.

“Ain't really my strong suit.” Daryl shrugs, avoiding the older boy's eyes by taking a swig from the water bottle, settling it down between them once he's done. He keeps his gaze trained to the floor after that, absent-mindedly picking at the threads on his jeans.

“Drawing is, though.” Rick muses, staring at the messy strands of hair battling each other on top of the kid's head, the storm grey of Daryl's eyes hidden away by his too long bangs. “What do you say I let you draw me right now and in exchange you answer a few questions from me? Nothing personal, just stuff to get to know you a little better.” Rick offers, an eyebrow arched as the boy looks up at him, surprise painted all over his features.

Daryl doesn't answer, simply fishes inside of his bag for his sketchbook and a pencil, flipping the former open to a new page and settling more comfortably in his seat. He stares at Rick for a moment, and when the older boy gives him a small smile of encouragement, he bows his head and starts drawing. He looks up every now and then, storm grey meeting sky blue for a few seconds before he ducks again, Rick's face slowly coming to life on paper with every stroke.

Rick asks him a total of three questions. First, he wonders about his family, and decides to drop the subject after hearing Daryl's clipped answer and seeing the visible tension in his shoulders. Then, he asks about the kind of music the kid likes, and Daryl proves a little more talkative this time, speaking of his love for classic rock and going on a tangent about how much he hates country music even though that's all his old man listens to on a daily basis. The third question catches Daryl off guard, but manages to pull a small smile out of him.

Rick asks if he can see him again after school the next day.

\---

Rick waits for Daryl at his locker the next day. And the day after. And the one after that. They do this all week, the both of them sitting down on the bleachers and getting to know one another a pencil sketch at a time. Rick learns that Daryl has a much older brother, who's currently serving a sentence for drug possession and a couple of assault charges. Daryl finds out that besides football, Rick's favorite thing to do is reading detective stories, and that apparently, they're not just for old people, thank you very much.

They tease each other a lot – and surprisingly, it's Daryl who does most of the teasing, seemingly enjoying getting Rick riled up over the silliest things. They do this for a few weeks, often enough for Shane to whine about his best friend abandoning him for a _sophomore_ , forcing Rick to cut back on the time spent with Daryl, much to both teenagers' displeasure. They still see each other, but it turns fleeting and increasingly unsatisfying, triggering a strong sense of _longing_ in both of their hearts.

Then, one night when Rick is in bed, nose deep in Stephen King's _Misery,_ a strange sound coming from his window has him jumping out of the covers. He prays for the lord to have mercy on his soul as he reaches for the baseball bat Shane forces him to keep beside his bed just in case and stalks over to the window, bat at the ready. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees Daryl sitting in the tree right across from him, flinging pebbles at the glass to get his attention. Rick sighs in both relief and disbelief before setting the bat down and opening the window, motioning for Daryl to come in.

“You scared the shit outta me! What are you doing here?” Rick hisses as he closes the latch behind Daryl once the kid is safely inside, watching him kick off his shoes and sit down on his bed with a sheepish look on his face.

“Dunno. Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Daryl shrugs, his eyes following Rick as the older boy comes over to sit beside him in nothing but his boxer shorts.

“Yeah well, gimme a little warning next time, alright?” Rick sighs, shaking his head before throwing his friend an amused look and a small smirk. His smile crumbles once he takes in the fresh bruises on the boy's face, a frown quickly replacing his previously carefree expression. “Your dad do this?” Rick asks, his voice catching on the last word.

The silence on Daryl's part is all the answer Rick needs, and the teenager sighs heavily before taking great care in wrapping an arm around the other boy's shoulders, pulling him into an awkward, one-armed hug – but a hug nonetheless. Daryl's whole body sags against him as he buries his head in Rick's neck, both arms coming up to wrap themselves around the older boy's waist. Rick shifts slightly to tighten the embrace, his free hand coming up to rest on top of Daryl's head, fingers sliding through his hair in gentle strokes.

They stay like this for a moment, just breathing each other in. Reassurance melts off Rick's body, enveloping Daryl in a cocoon of safety and something that feels a lot like love. The thought catches him off guard and he pulls away, making it halfway out of the teenager's arms before their hold suddenly tightens around him, trapping him there. It's not exactly forceful – Daryl could break away if he really wanted to – but it's firm enough that the kid doesn't budge, simply looks up at Rick with a crease in his brow.

“Stay here tonight. I'll make something up to tell my parents tomorrow morning.” It's both an order and a question, and Daryl just nods and lowers his eyes, biting his lips red until a warm hand settles on his cheek and forces him to look up. “You're safe here, and if keeping you here till the day this son of a bitch dies is the only thing I can do to keep him away from you, then you can be damn sure that's what I'm gonna do.”

Rick hardly registers how or why, but suddenly there's a warm pair of lips pressed against his own, and he just knows.

They'll be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @[serenalunera](http://serenalunera.tumblr.com)


End file.
